


They'll Be Laying Flowers on My Life

by soniagiris



Category: Dangan Ronpa, HetaOni
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Ending, Character Death, Corruption, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deathfic, Everyone is Dead, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Pain, Post-Canon, Sad Ending, Time Loop, Violence, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soniagiris/pseuds/soniagiris
Summary: The time, and how it flows, and how it loops.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   * beta by vee @ikuzonos, thank you!!!
>   * warnings in the ending notes >_>
>   * [ost&title source](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKgxkxbxI7Q)
> 


It starts like this:   
  
One time, Makoto Naegi steps into the mansion, his bright hope curled up next to his heart. Next time, he doesn't.

  


* * *

  
  
It goes like this:   
  
One time, Makoto saves himself by letting everyone die protecting him. Next time, he doesn't.   
For a second — oh, they dared to think they were safe. One minute, one second, one fast heartbeat of uneasy rest, of catching their breaths, of wiping the blood, still warm under the shaky touch, from hands, faces, blades. One minute, second, a heartbeat too long. It, the monster, the alien, the beast— it comes back, and Kirigiri throws herself between it and Makoto, and she— Oh, god. But, when there is no one else left (alive) but him, Makoto finds this notebook with instructions how to go back to the past, to when they entered the mansion. The journal can't be trustworthy, but... he has no choice. He has to, needs to, does— try.   
So in the next loop, he catches Kirigiri's arm, stops her. They fight the monster together, hand in hand, brave and hopeful and triumphant. And she still gets only seven more minutes before she has her throat slashed open, red droplets on pale skin, on the white floor, like blooming poppies.   
  
One time, Makoto tries to convince them they should search for some other shelter. Next time, he doesn't.   
They scoff at him, roll their eyes, and say, it's too late for that, the night's coming, let's stay here. And they say, what monster, Naegi, rioters are the monsters, you remember, you do, and don't say you know the future or Hagakure will be jealous. And they laugh laugh laugh out loud at the bad joke, relief and bit of fond annoyance clear in their raspy voices. They still go inside. Makoto stays behind for a moment, tries not to cry, breathes in fresh air, and follows them, but it's too late, the monster already scared them off, and later because of that he cannot help Asahina, can't find her struggling in the monster's choking hold on time. He finds her cold and still, bruised neck crushed like it was a bamboo straw.   
He turns back the clock, again, and, with all of them, he goes inside with a hopeful smile. A fake smile — but still one nevertheless.   
  
One time, Makoto turns down Kirigiri's love confession. Next time, he doesn't.   
She smiles at him faintly with her thin lips pressed together, says she understands, she can't make him like her that way, and— gets reckless with her sorrow and cold anger. Her slashes miss, her knife shakes in her hand, and she isn't able to kill the monster before it gets Togami. And she can't protect herself from that one punch, that sends her into the wall, and her spine, ribs, brittle bones crack like dry leaves.   
So Makoto tells her during next loop they are going to talk about it when they get out, and this isn't a no. She smiles slightly and gets giddy with possibilities, with hope, all lies lies, but she does not know it is a no; doesn't get Fukawa time to turn, time to fight.   
Next time, Makoto chooses his words correctly, like arguments during trials, and tries to remember what he said in previous loops when Kirigiri didn't confess. He feels fake, unreal,  _ hopele— _   
  
One time, Makoto separates himself from the group. Next time, he doesn't.   
When they've decided to stick together, he agrees to it, but still goes alone to find the pieces needed to open the room with the key, knowing the monster will follow him. He goes back, hoping that's it, the end. They get the key, and now he's sure that's the end. But— but that was too fast, and the beast attacks right after they've stepped outside. Five of them die. Makoto lives. He keeps on living, despite everything, and this is... This is unfair. He can't leave without them, he just can't, he has to make them live, but he can't can't can't.   
Next loop. He stays with them. He tries to do everything correctly, to choose the best options, to stab the weakest points. And they still get killed. He stands before the mansion with the key in his pocket, breathing the fresh air, frenziedly clutching the notebook with all the references, all the dialogue lines, all the options, all the ideas, all the  _ useless shit _ to his chest, as he weeps uncontrollably.   
  
One time, Makoto locks them in the basement cell to make them stay somewhere safe. Next time, he doesn't.   
To open the room with the key in it, three people are needed. Or two bodies, one living person. He knows that well enough. But this time everyone's still alive, and he convinces Kirigiri and Syo to go with him, makes the rest stay back in the cell. They all look at him with distrust. It hurts, but it's quite fair, quite alright because they manage to get the key safely; they go back safely; they— scatter and cry and howl and bleed 'cause the monster waited waited waited for them...   
But that's okay. It's — so good to go with them, then. Good to be  _ trusted. _   
  


* * *

  


It ends like this:  
  
One time, Makoto loves them in a variety of ways, but wholeheartedly. Next time, he doesn't.  
Kirigiri, slumped against the piano, red splash in the white room. Hagakure and Asahina, cold bodies near the cold fireplace, holding numb hands. Fukawa, laying on kitchen tiles, one leg unnaturally bent underneath her. Togami, leaning on the wall, staring empty-eyed at bloody numbers. (Numbers representing how many people in the loop got to this room, and there are too many ones and twos, and too little sixes).  
Makoto, punching the snow-white wall in unstoppable rage, till his knuckles break, his eyes are wide and wild and dry. Why didn't they survive, why did they die, why can't they stay fucking alive, why do they keep getting killed, why didn't they listen to him one time, is it too much to ask them, just one time, those fuckers who keep him doing this, who make him despair, he _hates it,_ he _hates_ _them,_ he—  
Stops. Breaths in. Out. In. Out.  
Turns back the time.  


**Author's Note:**

> a/n
> 
>   * **cw: blood, semi-explicit violence (throat slitting, suffocation, breaking bones), blades, self-harm (punching the wall), swearing, generally depressing atmosphere** o3o
>   * did you know that a few years ago i wrote 30k words long dr/ho crossover and didn't even finish it? sso much fun. had this entire au thought au n stuff.
> 



End file.
